There's Something About You and I
by AnthroQueen
Summary: 30 drabbles centered around that certain something that everyone sees, yet no one can explain. A 30kisses challenge.


**Hello friends! So here's the deal with this one- this is the "other story idea" I mentioned having in the author's note of "Love Is..." and yes it took me this long to write, edit and upload because it's so freaking long. But it's a writing challenge so I expected as much. Way back when, in the days of LiveJournal (remember when that was a thing?) this person created what's known as the 30kisses challenge (that's just the name; there doesn't have to be 30 kisses lol). It's a set of 30 themed words or phrases that you apply to really whatever pairing you want. The only rule is, it must have the themed element in each little vignette.  
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**So for example, the list of words I chose was Omicron, or, the weather themed set. Thus, all of these will mention weather in one way or another. Get it? It's fairly simple. FanFiction doesn't like when I post links, but if anyone would like to take a look at the rest of the sets, you're more than welcome to. I'll send them via PM if you're interested. I tried to include all the big moments in their relationship, and some of the small ones too, but there are so many that I couldn't use because let's face it, everything they do is cute. They're all out of order, too, by the way. So don't think this is like consecutive; it isn't. What would be the fun in that? ;) But yeah. This took me forever but it was a lot of fun and I really hope you enjoy. If not, well, no hard feelings haha. Any feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for always being wonderful.**

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><p><span>There's Something About You and I<span>

~* A 30kisses Challenge *~

**01- melting**

If there's one true difference between Melissa and Spencer, one of the many their parents had always pointed out to her, it's that Spencer is nowhere near as good at compartmentalizing her feelings as her sister is. For years, Spencer watched her sister step on all sorts of opponents to get what she wanted and to rise to the top without so much as a second glance back at those beneath her. Of course Spencer was expected to follow in her footsteps, but she never quite grasped the vindictive nature her sister had. She would win, she would achieve, and she would excel, but she would always glance behind her and catch the look of loss or the tears of failure on her rivals' faces. Her mother would say they were jealous; her father would tell her not bother with their emotions and to relinquish her own. It wasn't until later in life, much later than she'd care to admit, that she realized what her father was squashing- empathy. That alone separates her from the rest of her family.

So, running- it keeps her focused, it clears her mind of all worries and problems, and it's always helped put her at ease. Athletics in general have always done that and if hell suddenly froze over and her parents stopped heaping pressure on her to get as many extracurricular activities in as she can, she still wouldn't quit. Alison is dead and someone is torturing her and her friends and she might be going to school with her friend's murderer, but none of that seems to bother her when she's focusing on the soft tread of her sneakers against the pavement, the cool fall breeze keeping her body from overheating, and the steady stream of music from her exercise playlist humming in her ears. It's a bit overcast today; gray clouds are beginning to roll in, sure to coat Rosewood in a brief autumn storm before moving on to bigger and better things. Spencer takes a glance at the sky and briefly calculates how long it'll take her to get home before something else catches her eye.

Across the street, directly diagonal to her, is Toby Cavanaugh, strolling down the sidewalk, his shoulders hunched and hands shoved roughly into his pockets. Spencer stops short and crouches behind a parked car, observing. She remembers everything Alison had ever said about him, but something about his stature now is making it all hard to believe. He's been accused of her murder and Spencer had vehemently rallied against him, defamed him, wanted him gone. But now… Now she recalls earlier that day, when Toby had been escorted to school for his books only to find '_Killer_' spray-painted in blood red. Now, she watches as the dim light in his eyes is extinguished when a man rolls down his car window just to shout a death threat at him. Now, her eyes follow Toby as he encounters two little children, who stop in their tracks and dart across the street towards her, gripping onto each other ferociously and unable to get away fast enough. Spencer watches Toby, just watches him, as his steps quicken and everything she's ever been told about him suggests he's off to do something violent in return. But that's not what he does.

She watches as he disappears behind a great iron gate leading into a darkened alleyway. She can't spot him anymore, but she's intrigued, so she hurriedly jogs across the way and approaches the gate apprehensively. There's a part of her that's almost afraid of what she'll find, but, like a train wreck, she can't stop herself from looking. Toby is sitting beside the dumpster, slumped against the far wall, his knees pulled to his chests and his arms resting upon them. He's shivering and Spencer frowns because this town has done nothing but make him feel as though he is as low as the trash he's sitting amongst. Just as she's about to turn away, she catches the slightest glimpse of a tear rolling down his cheeks and her heart gives a final lurch, the icy exterior of her heart slowly beginning to melt. Would a sociopath, a Peeping Tom, a _murderer_, crouch and cry in the alley all because of a few phrases of verbal defamation? Maybe. But something about this simple action, this miserable feat, is telling her otherwise. She's overcome with an overwhelming sense of something her father would tell her to ignore- empathy. Sorrow, regret. Maybe Toby isn't the monster everyone's making him out to be and maybe she doesn't have to ignore her inherent feelings upfront; after all, both Alison and her father have been wrong before.

She hadn't noticed it until now, _right_ now, but Toby's alone. He needs someone and maybe it doesn't have to be Spencer, but maybe it should be.

**02- broken glass**

She doesn't have to look far to find him. She knows exactly where he'll be.

It's raining just a bit; drizzling in that irritating way where it isn't quite enough for an umbrella, but it's too much to be casually standing outside, begging to be drenched within the hour. Spencer's driving purposefully down the abandoned streets of Rosewood, one and only one destination in mind. The citizens of her once-quaint town have all but taken to the life of hermits in the past couple of weeks, the string of violence and murder having left them all with sour tastes in their mouths. Spencer wishes she could do the same; just pack up her things and hole up somewhere with Toby and the girls and their respective paramours. But she knows it isn't that simple. She knows running will only prolong the pain and there's no sense of hiding when –A knows her every move.

She slows to a stop right outside his childhood home, or, what's left of it. The fire trucks and questioning police officers have gone and nothing is left but piles of ash and dust and the skeleton of Toby's childhood home. She can still hear the explosion ringing in her ears, the jagged shards of broken glass raining down around her and the fire blazing long into night, taking hours to tame. With paralyzing fear, Spencer recalls the time her heart nearly stopped beating as her endlessly selfless boyfriend darted into the burning building, desperate to save the family who never cared to save him. She's sure she didn't breathe until she saw him stumble out moments later, coughing and covered in ash, and when she embraced him his entire body was trembling and he held her tighter than he ever had before. Somehow –A had taken away everything he'd ever had in the matter of seconds, but Spencer was still there; he still had her. And as he held onto her like a lifeline, shaking like a leaf, Spencer was overcome with a feeling of powerlessness, because no matter what she's done, or does, or continues to do in the future, it will never be enough to keep Toby safe.

Parking her car before the rubble, Spencer slowly steps up to the house she'd approached many times before, this time infinitely different than the last. It doesn't take long to find him; he's in what's left of the living room, sifting through wreckage and tossing things into different boxes, a look of determination set on his face. Spencer glances around at the disarray the fire caused- years and years of hard work and memories gone in an instant- and greets him gently. "Hi."

He jumps nearly out of his skin, so focused he hadn't heard her enter, but meets her eyes quickly. "Hey. I know you called a bunch of times, I'm sorry. I should've… I should've sent you a text, or something."

"No, it's okay," Spencer shakes her head. "I figured you were busy."

Toby nods slowly. "Just trying to salvage what I can. If I don't…"

He doesn't finish, but Spencer's already heard the end of his sentence- _No one else will_. She asks, "How's your dad?"

"Fine, I guess," Toby shrugs. "He's pissed off about it, but aren't we all?"

It's her turn to nod. "And you?"

"I'm alright," He tells her and returns to his work.

She steps further into the room and kneels beside him. "How much were you able to save?"

He frowns. "Not a lot. None of my stuff is still here; I'd be stupid to leave anything lying around here for Jenna to get her hands on. And when I got my own place I took most of my mom's things with me, but there's some that I couldn't and… Well, they're gone now."

"Toby," Spencer laments. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright. It's not like her stuff is what keeps her memory alive, but it just would've been nice to preserve it."

"No," Spencer shakes her head. "I'm sorry about all of this. About your mom, your dad, you losing your house-"

"That's not your fault," Toby interrupts her. "None of it is."

"Yes it is," Spencer insists. "If you hadn't gotten involved with me-"

"If I hadn't gotten involved with you, I'd be in a much worse place than I am right now," Toby tells her. "And you and I both know it."

She frowns. "But you would be safe."

"Maybe," Toby shrugs. "But I'd also be unhappy. And I would be trapped and miserable and looking for some sort of escape. I _know_ that for sure. Do you know why?"

She shakes her head ever so gently and he presses on. "Because that's exactly how I felt before I met you."

He places a reassuring kiss upon her lips and tells her, "I most certainly would not be better off without you, so don't even suggest it."

Toby has always had the uncanny ability to nullify her every insecurity with a single touch, a simple gesture. And it may be an arduous process, but perhaps someday he'll render them all extinct.

**03- cold sun**

Each time he puts on that infamous jet black hoodie, a part of him dies inside and he's sure he'll never look at the world the same way again.

Truthfully, he had always believed in the goodness of others and it had been his downfall many times before. When Toby was six years old, a third grader stole his lunch money for a week and Toby never told a soul. When caught by a lunch lady one day, Toby insisted he hadn't been bullied; he'd given his money up willingly because he hadn't wanted the other boy to starve. That night, an argument broke out downstairs between his parents and he overheard his mother defending his actions, calling him thoughtful and sweet despite his actions. It was too much for his father, though; Daniel exclaimed in outrage that this kind of behavior was unacceptable and that his son was weak. To this day, no matter how many times he tries to ignore it, on his darkest days he can still hear the accusation. _He's weak, Marion. Toby is weak_.

It's midday and the sun is ablaze high in the sky, but it isn't welcoming to Toby in the slightest and even the warmest of rays leave his body feeling cool and empty and hollow. He can't shake the feeling of betrayal, of utter, guttural loss, and at night he tosses and turns and does just about everything except sleep. The look on Spencer's face, the deservedly sharp sting of her palm against his cheek, and the way her voice broke over the accusation still haunt him to this day. It had been but a week and he still cannot escape their horrors. And, try as he might, he cannot escape Mona's controlling grasp, for here he is, at some rundown motel fresh out of a Hitchcock film on the edge of town, awaiting her next assignment. He'd disappeared for a while following Spencer's discovery of the truth and he's sure Mona won't take the news lightly; he's sure he'll pay the price.

"Well, well, well," Her eerie voice calls to him, drawing him in. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Toby does his best to keep his voice even. "What do you want?"

"I was going to ask you where you've been," Mona begins. "But I think this about says it all."

She hands him a leaflet with his own smiling face staring back at him. It takes him less than thirty seconds to realize it's advertising his own funeral. "What the hell is this?"

"A memorial service," Mona deadpans. "For the dearly departed."

"You did all of this just because I didn't answer your phone calls for a few days?" Toby asks in exasperation. "You didn't send these out, did you?"

"Of course I did. Why else would I go through all this time and effort?" Mona replies and Toby frowns. "I'm not sure how believable they were, but I know one person who seemed to fall for it."

At this, Toby stills. "What are you talking about?"

"A park ranger was doing her daily duty of checking the grounds this morning and she found something rather odd. Or, should I say, some_one_." Mona explains. "A girl, lying in the middle of a clearing in the woods, no belongings, no identification. She's fairly tall; five-seven, five-eight max with brown hair, brown eyes… Sound familiar?"

Toby's eyes widen. "No."

"Anyway, she was just wandering, just lying there all night and when they found her this morning, she was muttering to herself," Mona continues, eyeing her cuticles as if they were casually discussing the weather. "They committed her, of course. Sounds like she needed it."

"Oh my god," Toby exclaims, feeling as though he's been punched in the gut. "I'm done. Do you hear me? I am _done_, Mona. I have to… I have to get out of here. I have to get to her. Get out of my way."

He storms in the direction of the door and Mona stops him dead in his tracks. "You're not going anywhere. We finish this together or I will make you very, very sorry."

Toby scrubs a hand over his face, trying to keep it together. "You did this to her."

"No, Toby. _You_ did this to her," Mona states. "If you hadn't left in the first place, we wouldn't be where we are now. We would've continued with the plan as -A wanted it. I wouldn't have had to kill you. And Spencer wouldn't be-"

"Don't," Toby growls. "Don't talk about her. Don't even say her name. I'm done. I don't care what you do to me. But I'm done with this. I'm done with you."

And just as he's out the door, Mona says, "I know you don't care what I do to you. But you'll care what I do to her."

He pauses and again, although much more pained this time, warns, "Don't."

"Radley was my home once, too," Mona tells him. "It's easy to get in there and it's easy to get out. All I'd have to do is slip in and take care of her. With all the controversy surrounding that place and with all the deaths Rosewood's had lately, no one would even blink an eye."

"Stop," Toby shakes his head. "Don't touch her. I'll do whatever you want, just… Just leave her alone, please. _Please_. I'll do what you say. I will."

"Oh, I _know_ you will," Mona smiles wickedly. "And do you know how I know that? Because you're _weak_, Toby."

He frowns, his heart still quivering from the news of Spencer's hospitalization, and replies softly, "I know."

**04- "take it off…"**

"Toby, next time you go to London…"

"Yeah?"

"You're taking me with you. And we're never coming back."

He wants to question her, to push her further on the subject, but his mind is a jumbled mess of love and unparalleled lust and he lets it go. Making a mental note to ask her later, he reconnects their lips and the moment is lost. Each time they reunite, Toby wonders why he ever went away in the first place. They're always hot and heavy and all over each other; it's something he'll never get enough of. Not the act itself (although he's never going to complain about that), but just the fact that when they're intimate, it's the only time Toby is sure that Spencer's being one hundred percent honest with him. He's become just as accustomed to asking her for the whole truth as she has to not giving it; lying is second nature, now. It's inherent and it isn't as if he faults her for that; he never could. But he's also glad that at least one aspect of their relationship has never been touched.

His fingers are fumbling with the buttons on her shirt, unable to perform simple actions because his mind is far too clouded over with desire. Of course, she can still function perfectly well, so he isn't surprised when Spencer works the button and the zipper on his jeans before pulling back ever so slightly to demand, "Take it off."

Toby obliges and while he does, she removes her own clothing, because clearly he can't handle himself around her right now. All else is a blur. He isn't even sure how they ended up here. One moment, they're talking about Alison's return, Spencer spilling almost everything she knows, and the next, they're making out on the couch, uninterrupted this time, since both of her parents are once again absent. When they're through and their heartbeats and breathing has calmed, they're lying in each other's arms, caressing and kissing when they're interrupted by her blaring cell phone. It's then that things get tense; the carefree, calm, honest nature Spencer had possessed moments earlier is gone and his troubled girlfriend returns. She turns away from him, quite literally giving him the cold shoulder, and the wind is howling outside but Spencer is silent. It's then that he remembers her previous words and tries desperately for her to open up again.

"Hey," He wraps an arm around her torso, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. "What did you mean, earlier? When you said we're going to London and not coming back?"

She shakes her head softly and silences her cell phone as it buzzes on the nightstand once more. "Nothing. It was stupid; just a heat of the moment thing."

"Spence," He insists. "Talk to me."

"It's nothing, really," Spencer repeats. "I'm just tired."

And she is; Toby can see that from miles away. She doesn't care about –A or Alison or any of the drama surrounding them. She doesn't want to spend her days creating theories or solving mysteries or trying to stay alive. She's done; she wants to _live_. And of course he can't blame her; at eighteen, she's already had her fair share of stress and trouble and heartache. It's then that he understands. She isn't being evasive or trying to shut him out; she's just sick and tired of her situation and she's ready to be done. She's exhausted; she's worn out. When she says nothing more, Toby runs his fingers through her hair and tries to think of literally anything that might bring her out of the –A-induced shell.

"Well, you're going to love it. London, I mean." Toby begins. "I was only there a couple of days, but I already know it's the kind of place you could stay forever. It's got all the perks of big city life- the anonymity and the rush and all that- but it's clean, unlike Philly or New York, and there's so much history there. Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace and Baker Street. I thought of you the whole time I was there."

She turns in his arms, a small smile growing on her face. "You did?"

"Of course," He assures her. "There's this spot, right at the top of St. Paul's Cathedral, that gives you the best bird's eye view of the city, better than the one you'll get on the London Eye. You have to see it. It's pretty amazing. When I first went up there, I wished you were with me the entire time."

Spencer's full on grinning now and she pleads, "Promise me we'll go there sometime."

"We will," Toby tells her, sealing it with a kiss. "We'll go and we won't come back."

**05- eyelashes**

It's still pouring outside by the time Spencer finishes at Alison's house, thunder echoing down from the heavens and lightning dancing around the ground in electrifying bursts of heat. Her boots slosh through puddles of mud and squishy grass on the pathway back to her own home, but her left eye still throbs as if someone's physically removed it and her vision's still blurry, so she's navigating her way home as though she were a pirate foraging rough seas. It takes her an unprecedented amount of time to get to her back door, to attempt to unhitch the lock and then to panic when she realizes it's already open. If she's the only one home, then who…? Her question is answered mere moments after she asks it to herself as she spots Toby, still seated on the couch where she'd left him moments earlier, and at her questioning look, he shoots her one right back.

"You think I'm going to leave you home alone with a murderer on the loose when your vision's been compromised?" He asks. "Melissa's gone and no one knows where your parents are. That's just asking for trouble."

"Toby…" She trails off and he shakes his head.

"You can say all you want about being a post-modern feminist and believe me, it's not that I don't think you can handle yourself. But if animals are going to start attacking you, too, now, then I clearly need to step up my game, here, and-"

She crosses the room and cuts him off with a hug. Maybe it's because she's still feeling vulnerable or maybe it's the fact that no one has ever _cared_ as much as he does, but either way, she relishes in the way his arms curl around her protectively. She murmurs quietly, "Thank you."

"Let's get you some dry clothes," Toby says, pulling back as his hands immediately flock delicately to the skin around her eye. "You go change and I'll get you an ice pack. It's starting to swell."

"I don't think the crying earlier helped much," Spencer laments. "I can barely open it; my eyelashes are sticking together."

"Spencer," He says in that way that tells her he's frustrated with her stubbornness. "Please just let me take you to the hospital."

"It's not that serious," She insists. "Honestly. I'll go see an ophthalmologist tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Spencer nods. "But thank you for staying."

"Anytime you need me, Spence, you know that."

"And thanks for worrying, too," She adds in halfheartedly. "As strange as it seems, it's appreciated."

He gives her a sad sort of smile when he says, "I wish I didn't have to."

"Yeah," Spencer sighs. "Me too."

**06- shivering**

Spencer can't blame Toby for thinking Rosewood is a monster of its own creation. If she had gone through half of what he has, she'd feel the very same way. These few weeks of –A's incessant torture are nothing compared to losing a parent or doing time in a correctional facility for a crime he didn't commit. They're still perched on the hilltop overlooking the entire town, a spot that has quickly become their own ever since she first took him here mere weeks ago. She's tucked under his arm, wondering if he really is irritated with her for not telling him about Melissa's texts from Ian. She's never been in a real relationship before; she'd ended things with Alex before they ever really began and before that, well, next to Aria and Hanna (and before them, Alison), no one ever seemed to notice her.

A breeze ruffles the leaves on the trees above them and goose bumps arise on Spencer's arms and legs. Paranoid, she sits upright, Toby's arm dropping from her shoulders, and glances around, but for once, it really is just the wind. Toby sighs and says, "It's nice up here. I didn't know it existed."

"I used to come here to study when things at home were too insane," She tells him. "It's a long walk from my house. It was pretty nice when I learned to drive."

"And I bet you passed on the first try, right?"

"Didn't you?"

"No way," Toby smirks. "I made a wide right turn and drove over the curb when I was trying to parallel park."

She chuckles. "You did not!"

"I did," He confirms, grinning. "I couldn't have racked up more points if I tried."

"I bet you could have," Spencer points out. "If you disregarded the road signs or drove with your feet."

"That would've been a sight," Toby laughs. "I'd have to be pretty talented to do that one."

She beams and shivers a bit as the cool air seeps through the fissures of her coat. Toby notices instantly and asks, "Are you cold?"

"No," She shakes her head immediately, but her body betrays her and her teeth chatter. "I'm fine, really."

"You're cold," Toby disagrees and shrugs out of his coat to slip it around her shoulders; his arm is soon to follow, back in its earlier spot. "We can go if you want."

Spencer again shakes her head, snuggling closer, and says, "No, let's stay a little longer."

Where she is, now, in her relationship with Toby is just about where she was when she and Alex ended things. She remembers telling the girls, not that long ago actually, that things were good, that they were _so_ good, and she was afraid she'd ruin them and lose everything. It isn't exactly how things panned out, but she finds herself in this very same situation all over again. With Toby, she's _happy_; he brings out this side of her she hadn't even known existed and she desperately doesn't want things to change or to end. But something is telling her, some force from within, that this time, things are different; that _Toby_ is different. She feels connected to him and already cares so deeply for him that it almost terrifies her. There's a word for this feeling, she's sure of it, and it's creeping around in the depths of her mind, begging to be recognized. But it's early, yet, and how early _is_ too early, after all? Who gets to say?

Toby drops a kiss to her crown and Spencer knows for sure; early or not, she is wholeheartedly in love with him.

**07- frozen tears**

One tear falls, and then two. She tries to swipe them away before he can see, but she's just not fast enough.

Instantly, Toby's transported back to the time he'd made the worst decision of his life. He'd begged for the answers his girlfriend wasn't giving him and he paid the ultimate price for them; he'd worn the black cloak of betrayal, hurt people he'd considered his friends and ruined the thing he coveted most in his life- his relationship with Spencer. He can still see it to this day- thunder and lightning and torrentially pouring rain beat against her house as he crept in, rummaged through the kitchen in search of that certain key, cursing himself for being clumsy and hating himself for hurting her. Her voice, low and pain-laced, cut through him like a knife, and the slap he'd gained moments later hit him like a ton of bricks. The irony of it all is that it wasn't the end and it wasn't the worst part.

Now, on an evening much like the infamous one he can't seem to forget, Toby reaches forward and swipes the pad of his thumbs beneath her eyes, her tears frozen in time and unable to fall. As traumatic as that night had been for him, he'll always remember that her pain didn't end there. He can't imagine seeing what she saw; he can't imagine seeing what she saw and _going on_. And as horrible as it sounds, as horrible as it makes him, Toby is still astounded by his girlfriend's strength. If he had been in her place, if it had been _her_ look-alike in the woods, he would've been done for. But Spencer represses it; Spencer holds it in and bottles it up and doesn't let anyone see her combust until one day, it all boils over. So Toby knows that if she's standing before him now, unable to hold back tears, that she is truly upset.

"I'm sorry," He tells her, his hands lowering to gently grasp hers. "Spencer, I'm sorry."

"You just can't do that to me, okay?" She utters softly, almost inaudibly, as if she doesn't want to admit to being as vulnerable as she's feeling. "If you don't want to see me or talk to me or whatever, that's fine. But you can't… You just can't, okay?"

"I know. I know," He pushes himself off the arm of the couch and stands upright, pulling her into an embrace. "I won't. I won't do it again."

She exhales heavily and sniffles, clearly trying to get her emotions in check. He rubs her back a little, trying to silently communicate with her that it's okay to express her emotions; it's okay simply to _have_ them. Growing up in the Hastings' House of Horrors, Toby's almost positive this is something she's never been told. She pulls back and tugs on his hand, leading him toward the couch where they collapse upon it and curl up together. A black and white film is on in the background, but they're barely paying attention, their minds elsewhere. Fire crackles in the pit before them, warming their souls and shielding them from the harsher elements outside as Spencer spreads a blanket over their laps, draping an arm across his stomach. He responds earnestly, his arm curling around her shoulders firmly, assuring his presence and his lack of desire to leave her.

"Spence, about what you said earlier," Toby states suddenly. "If I didn't want to see or talk to you. You know that would never happen, right?"

She shrugs. "It's okay if you get sick of me sometimes. I won't take it personally."

"I don't," Toby assures her. "I never could. Look, when I take off like that… It's never you, okay? It's not your fault. It's just me; it's instinct and it's what I've always done and I need to stop, I know it. I'm trying. But it isn't you, Spence. I'm not going to ever get sick of spending time with you; to be honest, I can't get enough of it."

Spencer tightens her hold on him and murmurs, "I love you."

"I love you, too," He kisses her forehead. "So much."

Cozy and warm, they snuggle beside the fire for the rest of the evening and Toby knows he's in trouble, knows he's a goner for sure, because nothing else in the world can make him feel as serene and secure as being alongside his girlfriend can.

**08- on a day like this**

She isn't sure of a lot of things, these days. Once upon a time, Spencer Hastings could give you all the information you could ever hope to need and with utmost certainty, but that time has come and gone. With –A running around, controlling her life with a vice-like grip, there isn't much that Spencer knows for sure, anymore. She doesn't know what they'll find tonight when they finally confront Ian at the church; she doesn't know if he's the mysteriously cryptic –A who's been torturing them for weeks. But one thing she does know is that her homework isn't going to complete itself; it's an annoying constant in her life no matter how many death threats she receives. Scribbling furiously across her sheet of loose-leaf paper, Spencer does her best to concentrate.

It's not very easy with Toby watching her from the chaise in the corner. She really does love having him here and as much as she wants to focus, she knows it's futile. In a moment, he's tossing his book aside and motioning her over. "Come here. Come over here."

And she does because even this early in their relationship, she is already helpless to deny him. Dropping her pencil in the spine of textbook, Spencer approaches the chaise, which Toby is rotating to face to the window he's just opened. He reclaims his seat and gently tugs on her hand, inviting her to settle upon his lap. Birds are chirping in the trees outside her window and a balmy breeze threads through the air, the warm golden sunshine splaying across their faces joyfully in early autumnal pride. Toby snatches his book from the arm of the chair, but it goes unread, and his other hand begins to draw patterns lazily on her shoulder. If this isn't the way to spend an afternoon of bliss, then Spencer doesn't know what is.

"It's really nice out today," He says a moment later and Spencer nods her agreement.

"It's beautiful," She confirms. "And for the record, I like having you here because I like spending time with you. It took me a while to get here but… I don't care what my parents think."

He smiles slowly. "I like spending time with you, too. Hopefully we'll be able to do so more often, as long as you're okay with everyone thinking I'm a murderer."

"I'll never be okay with that," Spencer disagrees. "But as soon as we get this all straightened out… After whatever happens tonight, it'll all be over. It'll go back to normal and… Everyone will leave you alone."

"I wouldn't count on that," Toby tells her and then wonders, "Are you sure that Ian's the one you're after?"

"No," Spencer frowns. "I'm not so sure of anything, anymore."

"It's okay," He says softly. "You don't have to be right all the time. You're allowed to make mistakes; everyone does."

"Not the Hastings'," Spencer replies bitterly. "Haven't you heard? We're perfect. There's no room for error."

Toby shakes his head. "There's always room for error. Trust me, it's not going to make people think less of you."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because we all make mistakes. We're human," He explains. "And humans tend to understand other humans. Spencer you could be wrong about everything for the rest of your life and that wouldn't make me want to spend time with you or like you any less than I do now."

Silently, she processes his words and their calming nature as well as his fingers absentmindedly twirling through her hair is what eventually lulls her to sleep. She isn't sure of much these days, can't promise anything, but she knows for a fact she wants to keep Toby around for as long as she can.

**09- fog**

She's shaking in the passenger seat beside him, with anger or with fear or possibly a little bit of both; sometimes he can't tell with her. He keeps stealing sidelong glances at her, each time waiting for the timer to hit zero and the explosion to take place, but it never comes. He asks, "Where do you want to go?"

"Not home," She replies and even her voice is shaking. "I don't care. Just drive."

And so he does. That little tan Chevy truck carries them away from her house, down the street, past restaurants and developments and a few local businesses and Toby just drives on. He tries not to think about the situation that had just occurred, but it's hard not to when her father's furious screams are still ringing in his ears. What Peter Hastings was doing talking to Jason DiLaurentis, he'll probably never know and truthfully, he doesn't really care. What he does care about, though, is that he most certainly just lost his employment at the Hastings' and almost definitely lost all trust and respect from the Hastings' patriarch. Honestly, that's the last thing he wanted; he loves Spencer and he'd wanted so badly for her family to like him, but the way Peter had shouted at both of them tells him otherwise. He's certainly not expecting to be invited for dinner anytime soon.

He stops just at the edge of town, right outside the deep cerulean 'Welcome to Rosewood!' sign, and fog is starting to roll in as the night wanes on. It's creeping across the ground and rising into the evening air, oddly humid for this time of year. Toby turns off the car and chances a glance at Spencer, who can't even look at him. She has her face in her palms, head shaking silently, and she isn't trembling anymore, so perhaps the anger has passed. He isn't sure what to say. To be quite honest, Toby isn't sure what just happened. Surely, Peter's anger must stem from more than just an unearthed hockey stick and their next-door neighbor; Toby knew he was never Peter's first choice for his daughter, but he'd never expressed his negative feelings so openly before.

"Toby," Spencer finally exhales, her voice muffled by her palms. "I'm so sorry. I'm so embarrassed."

"What do you have to be sorry for?" He asks gently. "It's not your fault."

She shakes her head. "He can't treat you that way. He _shouldn't_ have treated you that way."

"Me? I don't care what he said to me," Toby disagrees. "He shouldn't treat _you_ that way. Please tell me that was the first and only time he's ever yelled at you like that."

Spencer shrugs and Toby feels the knife in his gut twist a bit further. "It wasn't the first time, but-"

"But nothing," He insists, pulling her hands away from her face so he can look her in the eye. "You don't have to make excuses for him."

"I'm not. He's not usually like that," Spencer tells him. "I don't know what's going on lately. Since Jason came back, he's just been completely off the rails. I don't know what it is about him that makes my father so crazy."

"Maybe he knows something we don't," Toby speculates.

"Jason or my father?"

"Both," He says. "But either way, that doesn't give him the right to take it out on you."

"Or you," Spencer adds. "I really am sorry."

"I told you, you don't have to apologize," He assures her, pulling her closer to him and pressing a chaste kiss on her lips. "It's not your fault."

"I know, but we don't have a chance in hell of getting an apology out of my father," Spencer frowns.

"I don't need one," Toby shakes his head. "It's okay."

He keeps his arms tightly around her until the tension relieves her shoulders. Later, when he does drop her off at home, he reminds her of the promise she'd made weeks earlier; _if you ever get the urge to run away again, call me first, okay?_

**10- hat**

Spencer is released from custody after forty-eight hours and a lack of physical evidence. The entire time of her incarceration, Toby doesn't sleep. He wheels himself around the loft, dreaming up terrifying situations and horror stories he'd experienced firsthand during his own time in a correctional facility. The moment her mother calls saying she's been released, Toby pulls himself upright with the help of his new stainless steel companions and heads to her house immediately. To make things worse, Rosewood has decided to blanket its residents in a thick coat of fluffy snow and it makes maneuvering down the roads even more difficult than it would be otherwise.

She opens the door and immediately he pulls her into his arms. "Are you okay?"

"Are _you_ okay?" Spencer wonders, eyeing the ten pounds of plaster attached to his leg. "Where's your wheelchair? You shouldn't put direct pressure on your leg."

"Spencer," Toby shakes his head, pulling back a bit. "Don't worry about me."

"Too late. I already am."

"And I'm worried about _you_."

"I'm fine," She shrugs, turning away. "They don't have enough evidence, so… Well, you know how this works."

"I do," Toby agrees. "I know how cold it can be. Lonely. Scary. But I'm here for you, if you want to talk."

"Thank you," Spencer smiles slowly. "I don't want to talk. I just want to do something to take my mind off of it."

"Then let's get away," Toby suggests. "Let's go somewhere they can't find us."

"Toby…" Spencer trails off, glancing at the ankle monitor adorning her foot. "I can't-"

"I know," Toby says. "But we don't have to _leave_ to escape."

Thirty-five minutes later, all bundled up and sipping from steaming mugs of hot cocoa, they're lying in an igloo of their own creation in her backyard. It's lopsided, a bit too wide in some places and caving in on the far left side, but they'd packed the snow firmly and actually managed to construct something they could escape in. They may or may not have tossed snowballs at one another halfway through and Toby may or may not have forgotten how competitive Spencer is; she plays to win. Snow is in their hair, the crevices of their boots, the cracks in their zippers and it's chilling their bones, but the cocoa is keeping their insides warm and each other's presence will keep the frostbite away.

"Thank you," Spencer tells him a moment later. "I really needed this."

"Anytime," Toby grins, reaching over to adjust the knit hat upon her head. "I think this is pretty good, though."

"It could be better," Spencer glances around. "We could've vaulted the ceiling or made a door we could actually get through…"

"Oh, now you're the carpentry expert, huh?" Toby teases, nudging her.

She grins. "Someone has to be, if you're going to be a cop, now."

He chuckles. "I'll miss it, though. I've been doing it for so long, it's kind of all I know."

"You can always go back," Spencer suggests. "Just as long as you're doing it for you. I just want you to be happy."

"Funny," Toby says. "I just want _you_ to be happy."

"You make me pretty happy," Spencer tells him. "You and this killer fort we just built."

Toby laughs. "We might freeze to death out here, but as long as I'm with you, it's an end I'm willing to take."

**11- visible breath**

A chill runs down her spine the minute they step into the biting night air and she shivers a little, partly from the cold, partly from her nerves, partly from him. Radley may have given her a clean bill of health, but she still feels as insane as ever, following him through darkness to a destination unbeknownst to her. It's at this very moment that she realizes with alarming certainty that despite everything he'd done to her, despite the betrayal and the anguish she'd felt, she hadn't stopped loving him for even a second and still, she trusts him with her life. She knows she shouldn't, not after everything that had happened the past few weeks, but she wants to believe that when he says he was faking the whole thing, he's actually being truthful. Either way, if Spencer gets some sort of explanation out of this, it will be worth it, because she is tired of running around like a chicken with her head cut off, searching for answers.

They don't speak the entire journey from the diner to the motel and Spencer can see her breath in the chilly air, a sign that winter truly is upon them. When they arrive, Toby unlocks the door and holds it open for her and she can't help but notice his gentlemanly tendencies are still in place. She shivers a bit more as he turns on the light and fashions a cup of coffee for her, and the way he knows her so well used to be something she loved, something she craved. Of course she asks the hard-hitting questions first; Mona and Red Coat and everything in between. It seems he really is a double agent after all; he knows just about as much as she does. But she wants to be angry with him for the heartache and the betrayal and for Radley and the moment she mentions her pain is the moment she finally sees his.

He glances away from her, unable to meet her eyes, and the usual crystalline blue of his own that she loves so much is now bathed in a sheen of tears, red-rimmed and raw. And that's when it hits her- this is still Toby, _her_ Toby, the one she'd fallen in love with, and this has been no picnic for him, either. She feels like a terrible person for thinking this, but part of her is glad he's been feeling as miserable as she has, because it assures her that the relationship was never one-sided; that their love was never fabricated. She kneels before him, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to look her in the eye. Sorrow pours from his to hers and she knows. He is being truthful after all and maybe they haven't solved everything just yet. Maybe there's a long conversation just waiting to be had, apologies and forgiveness to be doled out, but there will time enough for that later. This is as good a start as any.

When their lips finally meet, it isn't with a heat-fueled anger or a desire-laced passion. Those will come later, Spencer's sure of it. But this kiss, the very first in so many days, is softer, warmer, much more gentle than intense. It's one of reunification, one of rejoicing excitement and one of discovery, and it's ever so hesitant at first, but the barrier has been removed and the ice has been broken and they're whole once more. Their bodies react in similar fashions, fits of arousal coursing through their veins, and they remember instantly the very first time they were ever intimate. It's a fond memory, a recent one in fact, and it was everything they could have hoped for, but this time will be different. This time, they aren't uncovering uncharted territory, they're mending fences. And it will take time to heal and it will be a long process; certain things will never be erased, but their relationship can be repaired.

Can, and it will, because if the alternative is not being together, then Spencer and Toby will try their hardest to make amends.

**12- windy**

He's staring out the window, watching as the late October wind blows leaves down the street, waiting for someone to approach the house. This morning was the last time he'll allow someone to bash his mailbox with a baseball bat and so he watches dutifully, anticipating the next perpetrator and prepared to catch whoever it is in the act. It isn't like he's got much else to do; he's already finished an entire curriculum's worth of schoolwork, basically, and the beeping heap of plastic around his ankle makes it hard to take a Sunday stroll in the park. Suddenly, he spots someone heading his way, down the road, approaching his house cautiously. He pauses because she pauses- it's Spencer Hastings and she isn't here to do harm; he can tell by the way she picks up his mail off the road instead of stuffing it in the gutter (might sound inhumane, but it's happened to him before).

She knocks and again he's startled because he'd assumed she'd just shove it under the door. After he's accepted the mail and released all of the locks to swing the door mostly open, he takes in her presence and tries to remember everything he already knows about her. It isn't much. Preppy, super smart, president of everything… and that's about it. He remembers she was there that night, with Alison and the others by the garage, and he remembers that she was the last one he saw as the police car pulled away. But truthfully, he doesn't know anything else about her and if she'd like to suffer through tutoring him in a language that makes no sense to him, let her have at it. She's the only person he's had human contact with in the last few days, besides, of course, his lawyer, but that hardly counts since he's getting paid to do his job and for some odd reason, Spencer seems to be here willingly.

Of course, Jenna's home, and if Toby ever let Spencer Hastings into their house he would never hear the end of it, so lamenting the tiniest bit, he tells her she can't come in. She suggests they go elsewhere and in that, Toby learns two additional things about her- she doesn't know how the legal system works, despite being raised by lawyers (which he's vaguely remembering, now), and that she's mighty persistent, determined, and does not back down easily. So they sit upon the porch and conjugate verbs and speak to each other in a language he will most likely never use. The wind starts up again, bringing a chill to the air and tossing wisps of her hair around her delicate face as she reaches into her bag for yet another surprise. It's _The Catcher in the Rye_, or, the French version, and he's turning it over in his hands, admiring the glossy cover, when she mentions it's easier to read if you know the story previously.

Amused, he asks, "How did you know I've read it?"

"I saw you once," She admits, a bit regrettably. "At the Apple Rose Grille. You were reading it."

And that's when it hits him- another fact about Spencer Hastings he should've seen from the get-go. There will always be an explanation for her actions; she is dictated by her mind, not her impulses. So he asks, point blank, "What are you doing here?"

And she gives an excuse, a cover up, about his French teacher wanting something or other, he's not entirely sure. But he knows better; he might be out of school, but he isn't dense. He wants to know, _needs_ to know, why she's here. She wonders, defensively, "What makes you think I want something?"

"Because you never do anything without a reason," Toby replies simply.

She purses her lips. "Did Emily tell you that?"

"Nobody had to tell me that."

Then it spills out of her, the truth, and she might be on his side now and maybe he will speak French more often after all and then Jenna's there and he jumps nearly out of his skin and he has to go. But for the rest of the afternoon, he can't seem to get her words out of the forefront of his mind; "_I'm sorry. For what I said about you… and what I thought_."

He reads the entirety of _L'Attrape-Coeurs_ cover to cover that night and can't stop thinking about her. Before, his life had been pretty bleak. Now, however, there just might be a silver lining.

**13- standing**

Ian's dead but he isn't, not really, and if he tried to murder her last night then he'll definitely try to come back and finish the job. The house is dark and she's just about ready for bed; her mind and body are begging for sleep, but her senses are still hyper aware and she can't yet settle down. A sound comes from the back of the house and maybe it's just a branch scratching against a window, but she almost fell to her death last night and really, is it ever just the wind? Spencer races around the kitchen, turning off all the lights she can and locking every door in sight before she sees the backdoor at the far end of the wall start to open. She grabs the biggest knife her family owns and crouches beside the countertop, heart racing, breathing coming in short gasps, as she tries not to think of how she's home alone, how no one would hear her scream, how, when Drew Barrymore's parents left _her_ home alone in _Scream_, she'd been gutted and hung from a tree by her intestines. Honestly, she needs to stop watching the scary movies. She's living one.

There's a creaking sound as the door fully opens and then footsteps after it's shut. Her palms are sweaty and the knife is shaking in her grasp, the reflection of the moon bouncing off the gleaming stainless steel. She's not entirely sure if she's ready to kill someone tonight, but if it comes down to his life or hers, she'll do what she has to do, because she's not ready to die, either. Spencer can make out a shadow as the figure comes closer and inhales a deep breath to prepare herself as he rounds the corner and- it's Toby. His eyes widen and a look of shocked empathy bathes his features as he steps further into the kitchen toward her with his arms outstretched. The knife clatters to the floor and Spencer scrambles to her feet; she cannot get to him fast enough and the moment she does, the emotions spill over. He holds her tight and it's matched by her own vice-like grip on him as all the sentiments from the past few days explode within her.

"I had to see you," He murmurs and she can do nothing but nod and clutch him closer.

He doesn't ask if she's okay and she's relieved, because he knows she isn't. Instead, he whispers soothing words and tells her over and over that they'll get through this and that somehow, things will be okay. The combination of his calming voice, his protective embrace, and her intense focus on the sky outside helps bring her nerves some solace. There's something about Toby's presence that just makes everything better than it was before. The outside had looked stagnant and eerie before he'd arrived, too dark to be trusted, with branches curling upwards like fingers inviting Spencer to surrender herself to their grasp. But now, there's not a cloud in the sky and the soft breeze only ruffles the leaves on the ground and the milky white moon is reflecting upon them, an eternal nightlight that will guide them throughout even the toughest places. She's one hundred percent sure Toby is the one who's made this change.

"I'm sorry," He laments a moment later, still standing with her pressed up against him. "I should've knocked or used the front door. I just didn't want your parents to answer and kick me out again."

"Well, if they were here…" Spencer frowns.

"They left you here? Alone? After what happened last night?" Toby pulls away, holding her at arms length so he can look her in the eye. "Why? Why would they do that?"

"My sister's just been going through some stuff and now with Ian… wherever he is, they just want to be there for her," Spencer explains. "It's fine."

"It's not fine," He disagrees. "If they're both too busy being there for Melissa, who's supposed to be there for you?"

She shrugs. "Welcome to my eternal dilemma."

"Wrong. The answer is me," Toby tells her, pulling her back into an embrace and pressing a kiss to her temple. "I will always be there for you."

Despite everything, this makes her grin. "Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

He holds her tighter, if that's even possible, and utters, "Then I'll say it again."

**14- november**

Last November had been different, but she'd been a whole other person back then. It was right at the cusp of everything, just after Halloween, and the leaves had started to fall and the air had a crisp bite to it and each morning left a soft glow of dew upon the grass. Jenna had something to do with this whole –A disaster and Spencer was going to prove it, with Toby along for the ride. They'd stayed up late, he'd beaten her at Scrabble (it was a happy coincidence, honestly) and they'd flirted cautiously, a bit nervously, all throughout the night. She hated to admit it, but something about his cozy blue shirt was more comfortable than her own; it draped over her body, falling just above her knees and left her feeling safe and warm. When she'd awoken the next morning, her arm tucked around his torso as he slept on, none the wiser, she might have guessed there was something else there, something lurking below the surface and begging to be recognized. And it was, hours later, when he'd crossed the parking lot and kissed her for the very first time. It was then that they truly realized there was something special between them, something not to be ignored, and something truly real.

This November has been something of a whirlwind from start to finish and truthfully, Spencer's glad to see it finish. She plans for weeks upon weeks the dinner she's going to cook Toby and the gift she'll present him with for their anniversary and then it's shot to hell in one of the worst nights of Spencer's short life. She sees death and despair all around her; she's institutionalized and enticed over to the dark side, grasping at straws for any answer she can get. She finds him again and they're off to a rocky start, and they promise not to lie anymore and subsequently break that promise over and over again. She sees pain and anguish and she can't stop it from coming, can't even twist a tourniquet over the gaping wounds in her friends' lives or even in her boyfriend's. She starts popping pills again and they turn her into a monster and she's forced into rehab as Toby flees again. She's always unhappy when he's gone and he never goes out of personal effort; it's always because of something she's done. But she gets him back and he might be a bit damaged and she might have a shiny new ankle bracelet, but they're together with at least a semblance of their sanity. That's got to count for something.

Next November will be wildly different too; it promises to be. Spencer doesn't know where she'll be or what she'll be doing; she knows she isn't going to UPenn and she definitely doesn't want to be a lawyer, but as for what she _does_ want, that's a much shorter list. She wants to be happy and she wants to be with Toby, and as long as the second is true, that takes care of the first. She doesn't know what college she'll attend or what part of the country she'll end up in, but as long as it's far away from Rosewood, she'll be content. She doesn't know what she'll major in or what classes she'll take, but as long as she can focus on them and not on ways to escape death, then she'll make it through. She doesn't know where Toby will be or what he'll be doing; carpentry has always been his passion and he's excellent at it, but if law enforcement is something he'd like to pursue, then she'll support him all the way. Likely, their relationship will never be easy, but it is something she will fight for until she physically cannot.

On November 6th, she began a relationship with Toby Cavanaugh and he's brightened her days, weeks and months ever since.

**15- sandcastles**

It's hot; the hottest day they've had all summer and much hotter than Pennsylvania usually gets this time of July. It's pushing ninety, but the humidity is up to ninety-eight percent and the sun is baking their skin, because there isn't a single cloud in the cerulean sky for it to hide behind. It's one of those days the weathermen warn people about; the UV index is extremely high and remember to hydrate and reapply sunscreen and, really, don't go out if you don't have to. Of course, Spencer Hastings has never been one to follow directions very well, and especially not warnings if they're for something she's already set her mind upon. Thus, she and Toby are lounging lakeside right on the dock of her lake house, trying to make the most out of a lazy summer day. The stale air and the intense heat and the piercingly hot sun are making this nearly impossible.

"I wish we could take the boat out," Spencer says finally, glancing towards the boathouse at the other end of the dock. "The lake is so calm. It would be a perfect day for it."

"Last time I checked, you didn't have your boating license," Toby teased. "You know, when I told you about my broken plumbing and you offered me your shower, I kind of thought you meant the one at your actual house and not the one an hour away by the lake."

She chuckles. "First of all, it's thirty-five minutes on a good day with no traffic. Second, I just thought we could use the time away. I just wish there was more to do."

A mischievous grin forms on his face and he grabs her hand. "There is. Come on."

They hop over the side of the dock, onto the warm sand below, and Toby asks, "Do you have a bucket? Actually, we might need a few."

"For what?"

"For sandcastles," He answers simply. "You've never made them?"

"Um, once, I think?" Spencer recalls hesitantly. "It was in Florida when we went to visit my grandparents. I wanted to go to Disney World and was told we didn't have time, but when Melissa mentioned the beach, suddenly we had all the time in the world."

"Well, then let's build one. Right now," He urges. "Come on. It'll be great."

They collect buckets from the boathouse, small ones and industrial sized ones alike, and begin to gather the sand, packing it down with a hint of lake water and turning it over upon the ground. Toby carves a moat in front of it and Spencer begins to stack the turrets, towering high above both of them until they're sitting back in awe, admiring their work. It's quiet a moment before Toby shares, "I remember this one time, I don't know, I must've been seven or eight, we went on vacation towards the end of the summer to Cape Cod. And it rained every single day we were there; all day and all night. All we did for a week was sit in the hotel room and watch the storms from the window. And my dad was pissed; he complained night and day about how much he was paying and how little he was enjoying himself."

"But on the last night, the very last night, it stopped raining for maybe an hour, maybe two," He continues. "And my mom insisted we all go down to the beach, because we couldn't leave without doing it. My dad was irritated but he still went and it was wet and there were clumps of seaweed everywhere and I almost picked up a jellyfish because I thought it was a trash bag. But it was fun. We built sandcastles and buried each other in the sand and raced the incoming waves. And my dad never complained about the trip again and my mom was just… so happy. We just had the best time. And to this day, I don't really remember that much about my parents' relationship; I mean, it must've been rocky. But I remember that trip and I remember how great that last night was… I guess somehow it cancels out all the bad."

Spencer smiles slowly. "That sounds really great. I'm glad you have positive memories of them to hang onto, especially considering what comes later."

Toby nods in accord. "So do I."

**16- ironic**

She keeps it from him, every last detail, because she knows what –A will do to him if she doesn't. He'd been catapulted off of scaffolding last time she divulged and their relationship had been torn apart, plunging her into a deep pit of melancholy. Spencer decides to do everything she can to separate Toby from every other element of her life and it goes swimmingly right up until it all goes wrong. Lying about Jason is the very last straw and Toby storms out, furiously exclaiming he'll find out for himself if she won't divulge. Honestly, from those few words, she should've seen it coming. But she hadn't; it completely blindsides her in the most unpleasant of ways on the day that should have been a celebration.

Thunder crashes and lightning shocks and rain is pummeling down in thick, porcelain drops all around the house. Spencer can hear the back door creak open, a few soft, wet footsteps and then some rummaging in the kitchen drawer she'd been sure to leave empty. She approaches him slowly, apprehensively, and his back is to her, but he's wearing the hoodie and that's all she really needs to see. She knows; _he _knows, but she was hoping it would've ended differently. She had hoped that if she kept him aloof, unaware of the dangers of her daily life, that he would be kept safe, that he'd never learn the truth about Alison or –A or Red Coat or all of the above. But he'd been a part of it all along and now she's the one masked in confusion and sadness and betrayal. Tears begin to fall and she feels ludicrous, cheated, and played.

"Is this what you're looking for?" She asks, holding up the key, and as he turns around she finds herself still holding onto the hope that perhaps it won't be Toby beneath that hood. She knows it is, but still feels gutted as his eyes meet hers.

He approaches her slowly, tail tucked between his legs, and she can see the guilt in his eyes, but for the first time, she can't tell if it's genuine. "Spencer."

Her hand collides with his cheek before she can stop herself. She has an infinite number of questions. Is he –A? Has he been behind this the entire time? Was everything they'd ever shared, everything they've ever had, a lie? Her heart's in her throat and she can't ask any of these questions, so he asks one of his own. "How long have you known?"

Spencer hands him the Radley I.D. with his face and false identity, sniffling a bit, and he accepts it in shame. A sound emits from within the house and her name is called, but Toby disappears into the night before her mother can bear witness to this atrocious act. Spencer doesn't quite know how to explain how she's feeling. She clings to her mother and sobs and it's like all the disappointment she's ever felt in one single moment. The one person she had counted on, the one person she had _depended_ on, has just proved that he is no longer in such a position and maybe he never really was. When times had been hard, when she couldn't take her parents and when Melissa pissed her off and when the girls weren't on her side, Spencer had turned to Toby because he'd promised her, long ago, that he would always be there and that notion alone provided her with an overwhelming sense of comfort.

But who would comfort her now when the one who usually does is the one who'd instigated the pain?

**17- "hold me…"**

He's been driving for three straight hours on top of not sleeping the night before and he's thoroughly exhausted. But Toby's determined to sleep in his own bed and he will not let a little thing like that hold him back. When he finally approaches Rosewood, he considers calling her to let her know he's back in town, but then he checks the clock on the dashboard and thinks twice. She's getting ready for school or perhaps she's already there, but she most likely won't answer her phone. Still, his entire body is aching with the desire to see her and he finds himself driving in the direction of the high school, anyway. Sleep can wait; everything can wait so long as he gets even the slightest glimpse of his girlfriend in order to set the world right again.

Toby does a quick drive-by and squints in the gleaming early morning sunlight until, through the crowd of students, he spots her and the girls right by the stone steps. That old tan truck gives a grunting sound as he steps on the break, puts in park and turns the key in the ignition to put it to rest; it's about as tired as he is at this point in their journey together. He checks for cars and crosses the street, trying to calm the irrelevant nerves in his stomach as he approaches the place he would literally never set foot in again if it wasn't for her. It's kind of funny, actually, all the things he wouldn't do it wasn't for Spencer. It's true what they say; love makes people do crazy things. Emily's the first to notice him and she shoots him an easy smile he returns instantly, morphing into a grin when Spencer turns and lights up at the sight of him.

The girls have left them alone and when he gets close enough to her she says, "I think you should probably hold me right now. Otherwise, I'm going to explode and you will have to explain that to the custodians."

He chuckles, but no one has to tell him twice. Engulfing her in his arms, he inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the scrupulously comforting scent of her and is officially home. She holds back just as tight, her fingertips pressing into his shoulders, and murmurs, "You can't leave for that long again."

"It was just a week," He attempts to assure her, rubbing her back just a bit.

"No," She disagrees. "It was more like two."

Spencer pulls away then and when their eyes meet, there's something there, something fleeting that she covers immediately with inquisition about his mother, and you'd have to be a detective to figure it out or you'd have to be Toby Cavanaugh, who can read Spencer like a book. It's vulnerability and it's something Spencer's ashamed of, even though he's told her at least a dozen times that there's nothing wrong with feeling, nothing wrong with emotions. He knows that his absence makes her jittery, leaves her worried and apprehensive, makes her question their relationship and herself. He knows and he does it anyway, not because he doesn't care, but quite the opposite; because he cares so much that it kills him to see her go through what she is and he will do literally anything to get answers and put an end to her suffering. Toby doesn't like leaving her any more than she likes him leaving, but when he comes back, it always kills him to see just how much it's affected her.

He squeezes her hands and she smiles and he knows they're going to be all right.

**18- "if it could be you…"**

"I don't think I'm going to go."

She hears him snort from the other side of the bathroom door. "What do you mean? You're already getting ready."

It's true; she glances back at her reflection in the mirror and notes the silvery blue dress, the touch of makeup, the hairstyle she'd painstakingly created to pull her mop of curls away from her neck. It had snowed all day and the temperature is just above freezing, but the dance is still on and Spencer had spent a good portion of the afternoon readying herself for the night ahead. But something about this very notion feels wrong and she no longer feels the urge to head out to the dance with all her peers and celebrate the season. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why. Spencer calls back, "I can change. We can order food, watch a movie… Just relax, you know?"

"Spence, come out here."

She pulls open the door and crosses the loft to find him wheeling himself in circles in the living room. He stops dead when he sees her and beckons for her to come closer. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," She murmurs quietly, toying with the fabric of her dress.

"And you've been looking forward to this for weeks now," Toby reminds her. "Why wouldn't you want to go?"

"Ever since I incapacitated my date, I haven't exactly felt up for fun," She frowns. "If it could be you taking me tonight, I would be all for it, but I pretty much rendered that impossible."

"Spencer, this isn't your fault," Toby disagrees. "If I had paid more attention to the road instead of my phone-"

"But I was the one you were talking to," She insists. "And if I had just let you know what was happening-"

"You did," He pleads with her, taking both of her hands in his. "You told me everything."

"Not until it was too late," She laments. "I always do this."

"Spence, it's okay. It happened and it's over and it wasn't your fault," Toby assures her. "Look, if you really don't want to go, if you'd really rather stay here, then I'm certainly not going to complain. But don't stay just because I can't go. I want you to have fun tonight. You deserve it."

Spencer considers this for a moment before conceding. "I'm only going for a little while. Then I'm coming back and we're going to watch _Frosty the Snowman_ and drink hot chocolate like we planned."

He chuckles. "Deal."

**19- invisible**

When his mother died, a piece of Toby Cavanaugh did too and the loss left him with a gaping hole in his life that he would never fill. His father had handled everything with impeccable grace; the funeral service, the burial and the press that seemed fascinated by how someone might kill themselves in the walls of a mental hospital. Toby's relationship with his father was never the same, after that; their daily conversations consisted of very few questions and one-word answers and mostly, Toby kept to himself in his room. Eventually, Daniel acted as though he never even had a son and as pathetic as it might sound, this was how Toby preferred it. Being invisible made it easier to cope with his pain at first; if no one saw him, then no one saw it.

He found out he was getting a stepmother and stepsister the day they moved in. His stepmother thought of him as weak, useless, and rarely ever gave him the time of day, which prompted Daniel to act as such going forward. Jenna… well. That was an entirely different issue in itself. Living in that house soon became unbearable and Toby wanted nothing more than to grow up and get out. Of course, that very action is hindered by Jenna's accident and being shipped off to juvie, and getting accused of murdering the girl ninety percent of the town wanted dead. Suddenly, Toby Cavanaugh was no longer invisible, but a household name. People all over town looked at him as though he was the dirt beneath their shoes and he wanted to call all of them hypocrites, because even though he never touched Alison DiLaurentis, he knew that almost everyone was secretly glad she was gone.

Spencer Hastings sees him, though. She sees the truth; she sees his pain and his innocence and maybe it had taken her a while, but she had eventually come around. And at first he thinks it's too good to be true, thinks it might all be a ruse and she'll one day step out from around the curtain and he'll see her for what she really is. But it isn't and he doesn't; she's genuinely interested in him, genuinely wants to spend time with him and truthfully, honestly, likes him. He likes her too and at first he wonders if it's just the unimaginable high of finally having someone on his side, but it isn't; it's her. Just being with her fills his entire body with a feeling of euphoria and they can tease and joke and laugh just like they've been together their entire lives. Slowly, Toby realizes he doesn't want to be invisible anymore, not if being seen is as wonderful as this.

Spencer worries about Jason, about Toby's involvement with him, and though he promises he'll be careful, it doesn't put her at ease. He doesn't know what to tell her; he really needs the money if he's ever going to get his own place away from his screwed up, so-called family. She disappears and he can see her mind working in overdrive trying to figure out a sufficient way to please them both. And later that day, when the air is pleasant and the sun is shining brightly in the sky and there's a calming breeze fluttering all around them, Toby exits the DiLaurentis house to find an old Chevy truck ambling up the driveway. She tosses the keys his way, tells him the truck is his, and she's positively beaming brighter than the sun could ever hope to be. He's speechless at first, but there's only one thing can say when words finally do come to him.

It's official- he is wholesomely, irretrievably in love with Spencer Hastings.

**20- warmth**

There's a knock on the door and he isn't expecting company, especially not this late at night, but then a key turns in the lock and he knows exactly who it is. It's late fall and he can hear the night wind whistling and rattling the shutters on his window as the door to his loft opens. He doesn't look up from his computer as he greets her, but he considers himself lucky to see her twice in one day; usually, at this crazy hour of the night, she's off sleuthing with the girls, tracking their tormentor and ending up in a compromising position, flirting with danger. If she'd rather hang out with him this evening than play Nancy Drew with her Hardy boys, then he definitely isn't going to discourage her. Recalling their earlier conversation, it dawns on Toby that perhaps she'd managed to wrangle some half-truths out of her father and that's the real reason why she's here.

"Did you talk to your dad about Radley?"

"Yeah, I did."

At this, he meets her eyes, because there's something off about her, something shaky in her voice, something telling him she's on the verge of tears. It's then that he notices the suitcase at her feet and she asks, just as shakily, "Mind if I stay here for a while?"

Wordlessly, Toby stands, crosses the floor and pulls her into an embrace, nodding slowly and shutting the door behind her. She holds onto him like he's a life preserver and she's stranded in the middle of the sea, and Toby has no idea what happened but he partly doesn't want to. It had to have been bad if she'd taken the time to pack a suitcase and flee her home. The thought of any added anguish to Spencer's already overburdened mind makes his stomach turn and his muscles clench, but it has to be what had happened. He can't picture her parents kicking her out, but he also knows she's as stubborn as ever and would never have left on her own accord. Running his fingers through her hair, he presses a kiss to her collarbone, her neck and her temple and feels her inhale shakily to respond.

"Thank you," She says quietly and again, he nods.

"Stay as long as you want, okay?" He assures her. "You are always welcome here."

He had hoped that would be reassuring, but it ends up instigating a batch of tears. She pulls away and turns towards the couch, her hand furiously wiping at her cheeks, but she can't stop and he's already seen. She sinks into the couch and he follows suit, her face hidden behind her palms as she mutters, "Everything is so screwed up."

Toby wants to ask, but he knows now isn't the time. He can only help based on the assumptions he's made. So instead of asking the obvious question, he asks a different one. "How can I help?"

Spencer looks at him and gives him a watery smile, inching closer to him and replying, "You already have."

He slings an arm around her and pulls her close again, indulging in the warmth of their embrace. As she comes to rest against him, he presses a kiss to the top of her head and she tells him, honest and raw, "You're the only good thing in my life right now. The only one."

He frowns. "That's not true. You've got the girls and your mom and sometimes even-"

"No," She interrupts. "Just you."

Spencer Hastings is overburdened, overwhelmed and, most likely, overtired, so Toby tries not to focus too deeply upon her words. But he fails; whatever had happened at home had made her question her entire existence and that didn't sit well with him.

He will do everything he can to prove to her that she isn't alone and never will be, so long as she has him.

**21- crazy**

It's cold and she isn't wearing a jacket and she doesn't know where she's going, but everything is awful. Tears are flowing from her eyes and it feels like she's been kicked in the gut and her head hurts and she wants to go home. No, she doesn't want to go home. She doesn't want to go anywhere; she wants to stay here, forever, with him, because that's what it's come to, isn't it? Leaves crunch beneath her feet and she bumps into a tree and a branch gets tangled in her hair and acorns fall to the ground. She can't catch her breath; she wants to scream and cry and vomit and run but she can't do any of these things, so she does nothing. It hurts; everything hurts. Her feet, her head, her soul, her mind. She doesn't know where she is and she wants to go home but she doesn't want to go home because home isn't home anymore. Home is with him. And she can't go home because he can't go home; he will never go home again.

Somehow, it's dark and the air is still and feels icy, just like her heart, until it doesn't. She collapses on the ground and she's hyperventilating and she's screaming and screaming until her voice goes raw. Somehow, the dark turns to light and the sun still shines on a new day and life still goes on even though it feels like hers has ended. She hasn't slept a single second and she doesn't think she ever will again because each time she closes her eyes she sees him there, twisted, battered, bruised and bloodied and she hears Mona and she knows that it's all her fault. There's a sound coming from deep within the forest and a park ranger appears and asks her if she's lost, asks for her name, asks where she's headed, asks how long she's been there, but Spencer can't answer because Spencer doesn't know who she is anymore now that she's a murderer. She stands but it's too much effort and she falls to the ground again and apologizes over and over again to him, wherever he is now. She's screaming again, screaming that she's sorry, screaming that she loves him, screaming that it's over and she can't go on. And then she screams his name until she can't, screams until her throat feels tight, and she takes to muttering, mouthing, whispering. _Toby. Toby. Toby._

The ranger tucks her into her Jeep and she's brought into a building before being transferred to a room where everything is white. And people treat her like she's made of porcelain and they clean her wounds and call her Jane Doe and Spencer wonders if she'll ever be Spencer again. She feels as though she's watching from afar, watching as a version of herself sits, catatonic, in a hospital bed while the real version is floating above her, just waiting to be reattached, just waiting for her body to recalibrate. It's cold and dark but not as cold and dark as the woods had been and she belongs in the cold and dark, because he's dead and she doesn't deserve to feel warmth or light ever again. Nurses bring her a change of bandages and pudding and board games and slippers and Spencer watches, dead behind the eyes, but does not react. She doesn't know much of anything anymore, but she knows he's gone and that's all she needs to know. She hadn't ever understood the desire to die, and she doesn't feel it now, but she can see the appeal. She has nothing left; no fight, no plans, no strength, no energy. She hadn't listened to advice and maybe these past two years had led her here or maybe she's finally where she belongs. Maybe she's always been this way and only now is it coming to the surface. Maybe now she's accepting what she really is.

Crazy.

**22- faded colors**

"What's it like to run away?"

Toby is startled by her question, glancing away from the dancing reds and yellows and oranges of the fire to her face. Still, he answers honestly. "Cold."

It certainly is something that his past could do without. She looks disappointed in the answer and so he probes further. "Didn't you ever run away?"

"Once. I think I was seven," Spencer recalls. "My sister and I had an argument over something and my parents took Melissa's side."

Toby smiles a bit. "What were you fighting about?"

"Some great injustice. I can't remember now," She tells him. "But they sided with her, so I made a tuna salad sandwich and I ran away."

The picture alone makes him grin; a tiny little Spencer making a break for it with her tuna salad. "Where did you go?"

"The movies. It was something animated. There was a princess and everyone was singing," Spencer says. "Then I got lonely. And I ate my tuna salad sandwich and I came home."

"Were your parents worried?"

Spencer glances away. "They hadn't even noticed I was gone."

He watches her blink rapidly, her chestnut eyes seemingly ablaze in the light of the fire, and watches as the colors flicker and fade upon her face. Toby suddenly finds himself wishing that he'd never thought a single bad thing about Spencer, because they're much more similar than he'd ever hope to guess. If he ever thought his childhood was rough… well. At least his parents noticed when he was around and when he wasn't. Truthfully, running away is something he's unfortunately used to, because whenever things at home become too unbearable, he doesn't hesitate to flee. But it's cold and lonely and he'd never wish these things on his worst enemy, let alone on Spencer. He understands how she's feeling, though; he just wishes he could offer her another escape. Perhaps he can.

"Do me a favor?" Toby then implores.

Spencer nods. "What?"

"If you ever get the urge to run away again," He tells her. "Call me first, okay?"

She smiles warmly. "Okay."

He slips is hand into hers and they both feel it- a puzzle piece, sliding into place.

**23- afternoon**

Everything is pissing her off today; she's just in one of those moods. Not getting into UPenn certainly didn't help and neither did Toby's evasiveness yesterday, and her one-on-one with Fitz on a Saturday morning had just been icing on the nastiest of cakes. She's on the edge and literally anything is going to set her off, so when Toby shows up and tells her he's the one who's moved Mona's RV, Spencer explodes like a brooding volcano, her words as hot as lava. They argue back and forth for a few minutes before Toby yanks out a manila folder and tosses it her way, offering her the reason he did what he did. She glances at the files, clueless, and he mentions it's from Radley, it concerns his mother, and it's from the night she killed herself. Instantly, her anger is gone. If anyone deserves to be angry today, it's him.

They fall upon the couch and Toby asks her to read it, because he's not sure if he can. And so she does, every harrowing detail, and it kills him and by extension, it kills her too, so she asks if he wants her to continue. He does. Before this, Spencer hadn't known that Marion's death was suicide and it makes it all the more distressing. But Toby is skeptical; he sniffles and asks, "Does that sound like someone who stole a key later that day and jumped out a window?"

Her heart breaks a little more. "Toby-"

"Does it?" He demands. "Does that sound like someone who didn't even care enough to say goodbye? Does it?"

"Toby, it doesn't. It doesn't," Spencer says reassuringly. "But she said this to her doctors. They didn't know her real plan-"

He stands, suddenly infuriated again. "No."

"Toby, some people… They find an inner peace once they decide and-"

"We never saw this," Toby shouts back. "Her doctor never shared it. This place is covering something up and I need to know more."

"And you're going to trust information that –A supplies?" Spencer asks incredulously, handing him the files once more. "What does –A ultimately want from you?"

A knock on the back door makes both of them jump out of their skin. It's Aria and she couldn't have come at a worse time. Spencer's torn, but when she glances back at Toby, he's already gathered his things in haste and is ready to bolt. "You can't tell her about this. Or anyone else."

"Toby, I-"

"Promise me," He utters, a bit softer, his voice wavering. His beautiful blue eyes are filling with tears and it feels like Spencer's heart is going to leap out of her chest.

"Okay. I promise."

She steps closer, pressing her cheek against his shoulder in a sign of comfort, because she has so many times been on the receiving end of his, that she barely knows what to do. He seems to relish in it anyway and ducks into her embrace if only for a moment before he's off into the early afternoon sunshine. Spencer watches him go and laments that she can't follow; if ever there was a time that she didn't want to leave Toby alone, it's today, right now, in this very moment. She swipes at her eyes momentarily, lets Aria in and gives some excuse as to why Toby was so upset before pulling out her phone and opening a new text message. She doesn't even know what to say to him, because there isn't much that will offer comfort at a time like this. Just before she can send him a message, however, her phone buzzes and he sends her one, instead.

_I'm sorry. I love you_.

Her heart clenches and she feels like crying, right then and there. The girls' drama doesn't matter; nothing does, nothing else but him. Her fingers fly over the keys on her phone before she can stop them.

_I love you, too. I'll come over as soon as I can. We'll figure this out together, I promise._

**24- blame it on this heat**

It's hotter than any day Spencer has ever experienced in her entire life. Every time she steps outside it's like she is walking on the surface of the sun, taking a casual stroll through the streets of hell, dancing with the devil as he sends flames to consume her. This summer had been mild to say the very least; with no humidity and temperatures consistently in the low to mid eighties, it had been most bearable. Today, however, Rosewood decides to break tradition. Spencer's seated at one end of her couch, arms crossed in fury over her chest, and Toby's on the other side, studiously ignoring her. He'd come over and they'd disagreed over everything and fought for a solid ten minutes before falling quiet. Spencer's still brooding, but a tiny voice from within warns her that she should have seen this coming. They've been all over each other all summer, ever since getting back together after the masquerade and the ultimate unveiling of Mona as –A, and sooner or later, they were bound to simmer down. She's just hoping it won't break them like it had before.

Finally, Toby heaves a sigh and stands, averting his gaze as he says, "I guess I'm going to get out of here."

Panic courses through her veins and Spencer asks, "Why?"

"Because as thrilling as I find staring at the wall in silence, I can do that at my own place," He shoots back bitterly. "And the loft needs a ton of work, so I should get started if I want that place insulated by the winter."

Just as he's reached the backdoor, Spencer stands, too, and calls, "Wait, I don't… I don't want you to go."

"You don't?" Toby pauses and when she softly shakes her head, he adds, "Could have fooled me."

"I don't know why I was so mad before and I don't even remember why we were arguing but… Don't leave yet. Please." She pleads with him. "I'm sorry, it's just… I was being dumb. It's _so_ hot and I just get… cranky, I guess."

He stares at her a moment before chuckling and closing the gap between them to encircle his arms around her waist. "We all do. I'm sorry, too. I was being twice as dumb."

They kiss and just like the first time and the last time and every time in between, it lights every nerve in Spencer's body on fire. Passion, something she'd seen in movies and read about in books and never thought she'd feel, surges through every single inch of her; it races to her brain and her heart and her stomach and her fingertips. She's never loved anyone before and she has no one and nothing to compare this feeling to, but she's pretty sure she could never feel anything like it for as long as she lives. He moves her backwards until the backs of her knees meet the couch and they fall ungracefully on top of it. He's gentle, ever so gentle, and they aren't going to go _there_, not just yet. She's not ready and neither is he and for now, this is the last stop, the very last station before exiting. But it's real and it's raw and it's perfect.

And it's all she needs.

**25- bench**

It's a beautiful day in late fall and that makes what she's about to do all the more tragic. The sun is shining and the birds are chirping and she approaches his truck just as a cool breeze tousles his hair into his eyes and he pushes it over his safety goggles in a way that makes her swoon. He spots her and grins, signals to his fellow coworkers that he'll be back in a moment and pulls off the gloves, the goggles and the rest of his protective equipment. They take their conversation to the truck to be alone and Spencer pulls herself onto the bench before shutting the door and telling Toby she has something she has to tell him, that it's important, and then she stops talking. She stares at her hands, jittering nervously in her lap, and Toby stares at her, half-expectant, half-concerned. She can feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of her head but she can't meet his eyes.

Instead, she focuses on her surroundings; on the truck she'd bought him on a whim, if she could call it that, if whims could be meticulously planned out. She remembers the day she'd presented him with it, the utter disbelief and gratitude on his face, and the three little words she honestly hadn't been expecting, at least not in that very moment. Of course, the truck benefits her, too; Toby drives her to school on an almost regular basis and it's become their favorite spot for alone time when a kiss goodnight turns into a steamy make-out session straight from a movie screen. And Spencer hates to be that girl, because she's _never_ that girl, but when Toby had speculated over their future child's appearance this morning, she actually pictured it; a miniature version of either of them, perched between them on the bench of that old faithful truck as they drove along, completely carefree. Her eyes flood at the thought now because it's far from happening and if –A has her way, it never will.

After she does it, Spencer can't get out of the truck fast enough. She doesn't deserve to sit there any longer, because it's their sacred place and now she's tainted it with sin and heartbreak and lies. She hears him follow her, call after her and shout her name into the brisk afternoon, but she doesn't turn around. She can't. With every step as she takes off at a run, she feels her heart tear a little bit more and by the time she's reached the middle of town and can no longer take another step, her heart's already torn in half. Collapsing against a tree, she erupts into sobs, her entire body shaking, and she's never had to do that before but she never wants to do it again. She hates herself, she hates –A, but mostly, she hates Alison, because if Spencer had never befriended her, than she never would have been in this situation in the first place. This is all Alison's fault, but she's dead now. And she'd never say it out loud, but Spencer's glad she is.

**26- souvenir**

The first time he'd ever seen Spencer in one of his shirts had been right after the first time they'd ever slept together… literally speaking, of course. He'd woken up with the sun shining on his face and torso and when he'd spotted her, that cozy blue shirt he'd loved so much years was draped over her body, falling just before her knees. She pulled on it awkwardly, as if nervous he was going to suddenly decide she couldn't have it and yank over her head. But he never saw it again; that is, in his own closet. He saw it plenty of times on her; had even teased her about getting it back once. Of course he didn't really want it, but the way she'd reacted made him want _her_ more. From then on, his wardrobe has been slowly diminishing, but truly, it only amuses him.

Even this morning. When he awakens and ambles out of bed, he finds Spencer in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove, and she's clothed in a t-shirt of his and a pair of his boxers. It makes him grin. He glances at her suitcase, still parked by the door, and then at the clothes she's wearing and wonders what he should say. The night previous, she'd been emotional and upset and then she'd left briefly to meet the girls and had returned a different person. She'd nearly attacked him at the door and they made out furiously against it before moving the party to his bedroom; he barely had the time to ask her if this is truly what she wanted before she nodded quickly and drew him under. Thus, he's not sure what kind of mood she's in this morning and though he usually knows what to say, he can't quite read her now.

So, he starts simple. "Morning, Spence."

She turns off the burner and faces him, separating their meal onto two plates. "Hey. I made scrambled eggs."

"Thank you," He says softly, coming closer and pulling her into his arms. She resists just a bit and he kisses her gently. "You didn't have to do that."

She shrugs. "I wanted to thank you for letting me stay… and for always being there for me."

"Of course," He dismisses and then asks, "I do have a question, though."

Spencer nods. "Yeah?"

"You packed a suitcase before you left, right?" Toby implores and when she nods again, he runs his fingers over the smooth fabric on her shoulder and adds, "And these clothes came from…?"

She fights a smile. "Your room."

"Ah, just making sure," He teases. "And why?"

"Why not?" She probes. "Haven't you ever taken things from places you've stayed?"

"Lotion and shampoo, maybe," Toby says. "But not clothes."

"Oh you're missing out, then." Spencer tells him. "They're just like little souvenirs."

"Souvenirs?" He chuckles. "And do you have many?"

"A few. Not enough," She replies. "I could always do with more."

His hands move back down to her hips and he asks, "Did you bring me anything?"

She curls her fingers into his hair and pulls his mouth to hers. "I always do."

**27- teasing wind**

He spots her across the street, her reflection mirrored in a pane of glass downtown, and at first he isn't sure what to do. She turns around and his breath catches right in his throat and _damn_ she's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. Magnetized, he steps closer and she does the same, but suddenly, that isn't enough and they're running. His arms are already outstretched and she's keeping up at a slight jog now and the moment they're close enough he stops dead and she throws herself into his arms. Her arms curl around him and he holds her extra tight; it's been so long, it's been _too_ long, and he never wants to be away from her again. Just as he's loosening his hold on her, she clutches him tighter and disagrees vehemently.

"No, please, don't let me go."

Toby has no plans to. She pulls back just slightly to say, "I'm so sorry for everything. For all the secrets."

"Spencer, I know who you are," Toby assures her. "You never have to say you're sorry."

She launches herself into his arms again, but this time, her lips find his and he's home. They kiss in the middle of town for a few moments before she pulls away to say, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," He tells her, his hands everywhere at once. "I'm sorry I left. I was just angry and frustrated, but I shouldn't have… At least not without telling you where I was going, or calling you back or-"

"Hey," Spencer silences him, cupping his cheeks. "If I don't have to apologize, neither do you."

He does, though; he definitely needs to apologize because he knows how worried she gets and he knows what he learned while he was gone. Secrets are still brooding between them, but he liked it better when he wasn't in the know and thinks maybe Spencer had been right to not let him know what she's dealing with. He thinks of his confrontations with Mona just days earlier and holds Spencer even tighter. She'll find out; it's only a matter of time. But he could do without her knowing for eternity because he knows that when she does, it will easily be their demise. He hates that he's doing this to her, hates himself for even getting involved in the first place, but if she remains safe and free from Mona's terrifying grasp, at least part of this will be worth it.

But he's with her now. He shakes his head free of these thoughts because he refuses to let Mona take their reunion away from him. The wind is tossing her hair around her face as she suggests they get out of here, grabbing his hand and leading him down the street towards her house. They're making out again before they've even crossed the threshold of her home, climbing the stairs slowly and shutting her bedroom door behind them. There's no one home and Spencer doesn't seem surprised, so Toby isn't either, but for a brief moment, he wonders where they all are and when they'd last seen the youngest member of the household. He doesn't dwell too long upon that; they've collapsed onto the red chaise in the corner and they're going somewhere from which they cannot return.

He pulls away and looks her dead in the eye and the desire pouring from her chocolate brown eyes is unlike anything he'd ever seen before. "Are you sure?"

She nods eagerly. "Yes."

It escalates from there. And no matter what comes next, no one can take this moment away from them.

**28- not yet in bloom**

Her father had forced her on this walk and it isn't sitting well with him. She's stalking a good ten feet in front of him and Toby's trying to keep up at a light jog, but failing miserably. It's getting colder; winter is upon them and the trees are bare and the flowers have retreated inside their shells, not yet ready to show themselves until the next year. Just as Toby thinks he'll have to break a run to catch up, Spencer stops dead, her skirt swishing in the breeze, and her shoulders fall as though she's given up. He slows his steps, too, and approaches her gently, wary of how she'll react to his presence. When he'd tried gentle touch earlier, she'd recoiled as if he'd scalded her and it had definitely hurt him more than it had hurt her. He doesn't say anything this time, afraid of her shrugging away from him again, and just simply settles for standing slightly behind her.

Toby hears her suck in a breath and mutter something he can't make out, so he chances a reply. "I can't hear you, Spence. I don't know if you want me to, or not, but…"

"He's hiding something from me," Spencer repeats, her voice carried by the wind. "Everyone's looking at me like I've already been convicted of something, but I haven't even heard my sentence."

"Who is?" Toby wonders. "Your dad?"

"Everyone," Spencer turns to face him. "They know I did something; something _awful_. But _I_ don't know it. And no one will tell me."

"Spencer," Toby begins, pausing a moment to try and figure out how to say what he wants gently. "Are you sure they aren't just worried about you? You've been going through a lot and turning to pills to help isn't safe."

"That's not it," She shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears. "It's more than that. I know it. It has to be more than that."

"And what if it isn't?"

"It is," She insists. "I'm not going to take the pills anymore, I promise, but I only took them so I could focus and I still need to so I can figure this out because it's too much and I can't… I can't…"

"Okay," Toby nods, sensing an eruption of hysteria is near. "Okay. I believe you."

Despite her previous irritation, she allows him to fold her into an embrace and he takes solace in the fact that she's calming down, at least for now. He knows the feeling; she's overwhelmed, not because someone knows something that she does not, but because it feels to her as though no one is on her side. Toby's been there and it's the worst feeling he has ever felt. There is nothing lonelier than having the world against you and it's only now dawning upon him that this is exactly how she feels. But what had pulled him out of the everlasting darkness had been her, just her, coming into his life and lifting him from the despair. So, he does everything he can to convey to her that she's always got him; even if every last person she knows turns against her, a fate he would never wish upon her, she'll always have him.

"Spencer, listen to me, okay?"

She inhales a shaky breath and doesn't respond, but nods quickly against his shoulder.

"There is nothing anyone could do, nothing _you_ could do, that would make me change the way I feel about you, okay?" Toby informs her. "I don't know what your father is keeping from you or what you think you did, but it doesn't matter. I love you and nothing will ever, _ever_ change that. I just want you to know that. I want you to remember that."

Spencer still doesn't respond, but she holds him even tighter and for now, he's taking this as the smallest of victories.

**29- a perfect day**

They're done sleuthing for the afternoon; at least, that's what she's told Toby. They've been talking Jason and Jenna and everything in between, pawing through boxes of Ian's old things and drawing connections that just may lead them nowhere. She loves playing Nancy Drew with Toby, mostly because when she plays with the girls, they treat her like she's a superhuman or a bloodhound or something out of the ordinary, and they look at her like that whenever she gets an answer, too. But Toby's different; he always looks impressed at her connections and he's always teasing when he, oh let's just say, calls her obsessive. Anyway, he'd mentioned being hungry and she only then realizes she hasn't eaten since breakfast and it's pushing three o'clock, so they head out for pizza down the street and decide to eat outside, because the sun is warm upon their faces and it just can't get any better than this.

"So what do you do in your free time when you're not, I don't know, trying to save the world?" Toby asks, wiping at his mouth with a napkin.

Spencer chuckles. "What free time? All that time I have in between class and homework and dealing with utter insanity? I'm lucky I get all my meals in; I barely have time to sleep."

"Sounds busy," Toby notes. "No more room for equestrian or field hockey?"

Chewing on a piece of pepperoni, Spencer wonders, "And you knew I did that because…?"

"I've been in your room?" He answers as if she hadn't known. "I've seen the Spencer Hastings Shrine."

Sauce burns her throat as she chokes on laughter. "The Spencer Hastings Shrine? I live there and I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"All your trophies, ribbons, medals… All first place, from what I've seen," Toby says. "That's really impressive."

"It's not," Spencer disagrees. "I don't have as much time for that anymore and I'm sure if I played right now I would suck."

"I doubt that," Toby tells her. "You couldn't suck at anything. It's not in your blood."

"Tell me about it," Spencer sighs but Toby shakes his head.

"No, that's not a bad thing. That's awesome," He says. "No one's ever going to cross you, you know? They'd be stupid to try. You'll get what you want, the answers and all, because you fight for it and you don't give up or back down… And that's really cool. It's one of the many, many things I love about you."

She grins. "And you know one of the many, many things I love about you? You always take things that I kind of hate about myself and turn them into something that I can not only like but also appreciate. And you always say things that make me want to…"

"Make you want to what?"

A blush arises on her cheeks. "Kiss you."

Toby grins too and leans in closer in anticipation. "I'm never going to say no to that."

They kiss, but it doesn't last long; they're smiling so hard they have to break contact. The sun is shining and there might be other things to return to, but right now, it's just the two of them and it's, in a word, perfect.

**30- "good morning…"**

He's dreaming of sunshine, of salty seawater lapping at sandy shores, of sipping island drinks beneath tropical umbrellas with a beautiful brunette by his side, but when he opens his eyes, it's truly just a dream. In their haste the evening prior, they hadn't shut the curtains and so now, as he glances out the far window of his bedroom, the skies are a dull gray and there's frost on the windowsill and snowflakes are falling in place of sunshine. He lets out an involuntary shiver, but then he remembers that even though the island had simply been a fantasy, the beautiful brunette beside him had not; she's still here, still lost in the confines of sleep, and upon remembering this, he rolls over his side to face her.

Toby's not sure if she's wearing clothing; she certainly wasn't the night prior, but that's neither here nor there. The sheets and blankets and comforter are all piled on top of her, and she's sprawled out like a starfish in the middle of his bed, her assumed position whenever she's in a deep sleep. A smile, warm and slow, grows upon his face and he wants to collect her in his arms, snuggle her in tight, and never leave this bed. Things are bad, now; Mona's dead, Spencer's fresh out of jail and –A has taken things to a whole new level. But he doesn't like to think about it and they've done enough talking in the past forty-eight hours to last them a lifetime. Now, he just wants to be with her. He'd be satisfied to never have to address the issues at all, even though he knows that isn't how it works. At least, he knows, that's how it works here.

She's stirring now, her pleasant, peaceful slumber interrupted as she slowly comes to. He watches her awaken, glance around at her surroundings, and then her eyes fall on his. She smiles instantly and it warms his very soul. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too," He greets her. "Sleep well?"

"Always do," She says. He knows it isn't true; when she's home alone, she doesn't sleep at all and when her family is home, it's fitful at best. But no matter, he will take this as a compliment, because she feels just as safe and secure with him as he does with her.

"Do you have any plans today?"

"Yes," Spencer frowns. "And I'm doing none of them. It's cold and I'm tired and I just want to stay right where I am."

"I have absolutely no problem with that," Toby tells her, hooking an arm around her stomach and pulling her closer. "We'll just lay here all day."

"Yes, please," She replies as he rests against her collarbone. Absentmindedly, she begins to run her fingers through his hair and if she keeps doing this, he's pretty sure she'll lull him back to sleep. "But don't you have some crime fighting to get to, officer?"

"Yep," He agrees. "People trying to take me away from you and this bed to deal with real world problems."

She chuckles. "That's not exactly a crime."

"I beg to differ."

A comfortable silence falls between the two of them and after a moment, Toby says, "Hey, Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"Look, whatever happens-"

"No," She protests. "Let's not talk about it. We don't need to."

"No, we do. I just… I just want to say that I don't know what's happening. I never usually do," Toby tells her. "But I'm going to do whatever I can to help you. And whatever you need, I will be there for you."

"I love knowing that," Spencer tells him honestly. "And know that it goes both ways, okay? I love you and I always will. And nothing's going to keep us apart, okay? Nothing ever could."

Toby smiles, too, and says, "I love you, too. So, so much."

There's no telling what the future holds, that much is sure. But there's something between them, something strong and warm and real, and it will easily transcend anything the future throws their way.

It seems oddly simplistic that this something can only be described as love, but that's exactly what it is.

And truthfully, that's all they need.


End file.
